Lessons Learned
by Maxiekat
Summary: Bobby visits Jack and Kathy in New York City and he winds up giving her boxing lessons and this leads to Jack sharing the story of Bobby teaching him how to play hockey for the first time, at least the parts of it he can remember. AU takes place after my story Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk. One Shot.


Note: I don't own _Four Brothers_ or _Ghosts That We Knew_ by Mumford and Sons.

**Lessons Learned**

_But the ghosts that we knew made us black and all blue  
But we'll live a long life_

"What's with the fucking giggling?"

"Sorry." Kathy swallowed her laughter and raised her hands in front of her face while trying to do that little bouncing thing Rocky did in the movies. The boxing gloves felt awkward and heavy and she was certain she looked ridiculous.

Jack's brother narrowed his eyes and she was convinced that man had never giggled ever in his life, not once. "This is serious," he growled.

She sighed and dropped her hands to her sides. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. It's just that you intimidate me somewhat."

"I intimidate you?"

Jack reached out under the ropes and tugged on her sock. "Kath, you can't tell him that."

"But it's true," she whispered down to her boyfriend. He was standing on the ground while she was up in the ring, trapped with his scowling brother. She looked back at Bobby and gave him an apologetic shrug. "It's true."

"Do I look like I give a shit?"

"Um, no. Not really. Now that you mention it …" Bobby was giving her a look she decided to label his "death glare" and she bit her lip, trying to stop her rambling that always seemed to kick in during the most awkward situations. And you couldn't get much more awkward than taking boxing lessons with the bully of Detroit. This was certainly not the Sunday afternoon she envisioned when Jack suggested spending the day together. She was hoping for something a little less violent.

She resumed her boxing stance, mimicking Bobby. His gloved fist suddenly jabbed at the air in front of her face and she yelped, jumping back, her feet getting twisted together in her sneakers.

Her first thought as she landed was that the floor of the boxing ring wasn't as soft as she'd hoped and her second one was that it probably wasn't appropriate to start laughing so hard she snorted … twice.

Bobby gave her a disgusted look. "Jesus Christ, you two deserve each other."

XxXxXxXxXx

"I'm sorry," Kathy said to Jack when Bobby got up from the table to use the restroom. They were in a diner that was a couple of blocks from the gym, refueling after what Kathy considered a tough workout but Bobby had declared it a complete waste of time.

Jack leaned across the table and, brushing her damp hair off her forehead, gave her a quick kiss and grinned. "Are you kidding? You survived."

"Jack, it's not like he was really going to 'chew me up and spit me out'," she quoted Bobby with a roll of her eyes. It's not like he didn't scare her little bit, but she'd figured out pretty quickly that his bark was worse than his bite. Not that she enjoyed being barked at.

Bobby had come to New York to hang out with Jack for the weekend, deciding he needed a break from Detroit. Her apartment was small to begin with, but having Bobby sleeping on the couch made it a hundred times tinier. Add in the fact that Horatio seemed to have some sort sixth sense that Bobby was allergic and therefore made it his feline mission since he'd stepped through the door to get that man to cuddle with him – and it had been a long weekend. A really long weekend.

When a tour of her neighborhood, which was quickly becoming "Jack's neighborhood" too, took them past an old rundown gym, Bobby stopped in his tracks. "Jackiepoo, this remind you of that place back home?"

Jack shrugged like he always did and Bobby just kept talking like he always did. "Jimmy Whatshisface ran it. Taught me to box – remember how I taught you, too. You were scared outta your mind." Bobby cackled and Kathy hid a grin as Jack's neck grew pink with embarrassment.

"Yeah, I remember," he admitted reluctantly. He turned to Kathy. "Ma wanted them to take me to a movie or something to make me feel welcome and Bobby decided throwing some punches at me was a better idea."

"Worked, didn't it?" Bobby interrupted.

"Sure, Bobby, you're a parenting genius," Jack said dryly and Bobby rolled his eyes.

"You didn't need to be babied – you would have never made it past the front door if I went soft on ya, and you know that. Ma knew that – that's why she asked me to come home, even if she never said it outloud."

Kathy's gaze darted between the brothers. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask more, but she knew she had to take what she could get – Bobby wasn't the only one Jack shrugged at when he didn't want to talk about something difficult and it didn't much more difficult than talking about his childhood.

So, somehow a nice walk down the street to her favorite bakery instead wound up being a tour of a rundown gym that smelled like moldy towels and was run by some grizzled old guy named Sal who won an insignificant boxing title way back when her dad was still in diapers. Bobby was in heaven and, of course, remembered her run in with a mugger a few months back and made it his new mission to teach her how to fight. Two hours later and the only skill she'd acquired was falling while ducking.

"He means well," she said, stirring her coffee slowly.

Jack took her hand and rubbed her knuckles, red from the tape she'd worn under the gloves. He smiled. "Still, I know Bobby can be scary. Did I ever tell you about the time he taught me to play hockey?"

She shook her head. Jack didn't let go of her hand, his thumb grazing over her knuckles in a lazy circle, his expression serious. "It wasn't pretty. At least the parts of it I can remember."

XxXxXxXxXx

The paint was peeling off the rough wood wall above him. Jack hoped that meant he wasn't dying. It would have to be a pretty fucked world if whoever was in charge of it let your last dying thought be about peeling paint. Of course, fucked up and him went hand in hand, so it wouldn't exactly be a surprise. It was just that he'd always heard your life passed before your eyes and even though his life was pretty shitty and the highlight reel was a short one, but he hoped his brain could conjure up something better than peeling paint.

"Ma's gonna be pissed if you got the kid killed," a voice from above said. Jack turned his head slowly. There were several pairs of feet crowded around him, all wearing skates. That was somehow important, but his brain couldn't connect the dots.

"He ain't dead, he's just being a fucking drama queen." Jack groaned and closed his eyes. That voice belonged to Evelyn Mercer's oldest son, Bobby and the guy always sounded like that – like he'd gargled with nails in the morning and spit out bullets in the afternoon.

"Cold," Jack mumbled.

"That's because you're lyin' on the ice, sweetheart."

Someone knelt down next to him, his gaze concerned. Jerry. "Bobby, ease up, man. He got hit pretty hard."

"Which is why I wanted to kick their asses, but you shitheads pulled me off 'em. Mercers don't back down from a fight."

"They do when the kid they're looking after is passed out in the corner after taking a hit that would have even knocked out the Michigan Mauler."

_Passed out? _He was so confused.

Jerry reached out and touched his arm. "Can you sit up, Jack?"

"Think so," he said, not moving a muscle.

"Today?" Bobby said, annoyed.

Jack couldn't even feel his body, let alone will it to move, but he somehow maneuvered himself until he was leaning against the wall with the peeling paint, his head pounding and the skating rink spinning like a drunk on a carousel.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it, princess?"

Jack doubled over and threw up all over Bobby's skates.

XxXxXxXxXx

"You threw up on Bobby?" She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Jack's grin was crooked and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yep. Turns out I had a concussion. Pretty bad one. I felt like shit for a week. Ma was a little pissed."

"I don't blame her."

"Bobby just figured it was all part of toughening me up." Jack shrugged.

Bobby arrived back at the table before the conversation could continue. "Miss me?" he asked as he shooed Jack out of his seat so he could slide in next to the window.

"Terribly," Jack deadpanned.

"We were talking about hockey," Kathy said, jumping a bit when Jack lightly tapped her leg under the table with his foot. She knew he wanted her to drop it, but she only knew that Jack she'd grown up with – the brooding guy who sat in the back of class and doodled song lyrics all over everything. They were friends a long time ago, but even back then, his life outside of school and music was off limits and he never talked about it. Bobby was nothing if not talkative.

"What, like stats and stuff?" Bobby said with a look of surprise. "You suddenly into sports now, girly-girl?"

Kathy took a sip of her coffee and shook her head. "Nope. We were talking about when you gave Jack a concussion."

"Gotta be more specific," Bobby said as he waved the waitress over for more coffee.

"You gonna order something besides coffee?" the waitress asked in a thick New York accent, holding the coffee pot above her shoulder like she was holding it for ransom.

Bobby opened his mouth, about to say God knows what, when Kathy jumped in. "Pie. I'll have a piece of pie. Apple. Scoop of vanilla." She turned her attention back to Bobby after the waitress left. "So hockey and concussions. Just how many were there?"

"That were my fault? None."

Jack snorted a laugh. "Bullshit."

Bobby narrowed his eyes. "What was that?"

"You know as well as I do that even if you weren't the one going after me on the ice, you were the cause." He looked at Kathy. "Being a Mercer was like wearing a giant bullseye on your back. Got stuck paying back a lot of the shit Bobby pulled. Easier to go after the kid than the loud mouth who liked to fight."

Jack shifted in his seat, wincing with the pain that was his constant companion, even if it had eased up a bit over the past year. He stretched his leg out in front of him, working out the stiffness in his bad knee before letting it settle on the edge of Kathy's seat. She smiled and rubbed his leg in sympathy. Bobby, being the watchdog that he was, noticed the whole exchange and the air in the diner grew still as he stared at the glaring reminder of just how much his brother had paid for his mistakes.

The waitress returned with the pie and Kathy had never been so happy to see pie in her life, anything to break the awkwardness. "Want some?" she asked and got two no's but Jack was staring so intently at the plate that she pushed it closer just as she was finishing her first bite. He grabbed the spoon from his coffee and dug in, taking half the ice cream with him.

"She's talking about the first time – when you took me to the rink and threw me to the wolves," Jack explained through a mouthful of pie and ice cream.

Bobby shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Wolves." He snorted a laugh. "Those guys were pussies. Hell, she could have taken 'em." He pointed at Kathy and she had a sinking feeling his next suggestion for the day would be to give her skating lessons.

"So you had a little concussion and had to spend the night in the hospital," Bobby continued. "I'm the one who had to get a new pair of skates because you puked your guts out all over them."

"Ma was a mess, Jerry was worried you'd killed me, and I got stuck in one of my five least favorite places on the planet. Yeah, no biggie," Jack said with a shrug.

"Five?" Kathy asked as Jack smushed what was left of the pie with his fork, demolishing it to crumbs.

"You don't want to know, trust me."

XxXxXxXxXx

He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Kathy until she was standing over him, motioning for him to move over to give her some room on fire escape.

"Figured I'd find you out here," she said with a smile and he shrugged, as he tried to inconspicuously ground out his cigarette, allowing it to drop to the sidewalk below. He was trying to quit but doing about as swell a job of it as the four thousand previous attempts he'd made.

She sat down with a sigh, shivering as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Jack nudged her shoulder with his own. "You're always on me about wearing my coat and what do you? Come out here without a coat on." He shook his head and made a tsking sound. "Not setting a good example here, Kath."

"I figured my discomfort would lure you inside because you're so chivalrous."

"You mean like throwing my jacket over a puddle so you won't get mud on your sneakers?"

She nodded. "Exactly."

"You got me pegged, but …" He shrugged out of his leather jacket and put it over her shoulders, tugging it closed over her folded arms. He kissed the tip of her nose. "There is more than one way to skin a cat."

Resigned, she tightened the coat around her shoulders, breathing in the scent that was so Jack – leather, soap and … she took another sniff … "Cigarettes," she said and he shrugged, not even bothering to lie. Sighing, she leaned against him.

"Escaping Bobby's snoring?" Jack asked dryly.

"It's payback for finding Horatio's crush on him so funny, isn't it?" The minute Bobby fell asleep, the cat was on him, curled up on his chest, aggravating his allergies even further and causing the worst case of snoring she'd ever heard in her life.

Jack laughed. "Yeah, I think so. Still funny, but I can't wait for him to leave on Monday so the walls will stop shaking every time takes a deep breath."

They sat for a bit, not saying anything, enjoying the silence of the city so late at night, interrupted here and there by the occasional siren and car horn. "So five least favorite places?" Kathy said slowly.

Jack should have known she was going to latch onto that throwaway line and not let it go. "Yep," was all he said back.

"Care to share?"

"Nope."

"I figured," she said and he knew she was disappointed in him, even if she would never in a million years admit she was. He knew the feeling – he was disappointed in himself on a pretty regular basis. Being a chicken shit who couldn't open up to his girlfriend wasn't something he was proud of. _Fuck,_ he thought, _sometimes you just gotta take that leap …  
_  
"The group home," he said quietly, though his voice was deep and rough. Just those three words made him crave a cigarette like nothing else. Kathy wrapped her arms around him, giving him an anchor for him to find his way back from the memories. He took a deep breath. "Any foster home, even the ones that didn't suck. The Detroit police station down on Warwick, where you're guilty until proven guilty and having the last name Mercer makes you a thousand times even more guilty." He pulled out his lighter and twirled it around in his fingers, flicking it open and closed. Killing the flame over and over again.

"The hospital because, seriously, it sucks. Still sucks. Will never not suck." He laughed at that one, remembering how horrified he was when Jerry forced Bobby to take him to the emergency room following his first hockey lesson. Little did he know, several years later he'd practically be calling the hospital a second home after getting shot to hell. "And last but not least, Child Protective Services because until I met Evelyn, no one in that place knew what to do with me and the idea that they were there to protect me was a fucking joke." He counted under his breath, ticking off each shitty place on his fingers. "That makes five."

Kathy looked up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Thank you," she said and he smiled down at her, taking her hand and threading her fingers with his.

"Sure thing. If you ever need to end your night on a down note, you can count on me."

"It's not sad to me. It just shows how far you've come." She hugged him tighter. "I hope you have some favorite places now."

He smiled. " Let's see … Evelyn's house … my house," he corrected, "even with Bobby lording over it now like a mini-dictator. The stage - any stage, anywhere. As long as I have my guitar, I'm happy. Out on the ice, because, despite what Bobby will tell you, I was pretty damn good out there before my knee got all fucked up. And here, with you. You're my home now, Kathy."

"I'm your happy place?"

"Yep, you're my happy place." He leaned down and kissed her, wrapping his hands in the jacket that was slung over her shoulders, pulling her closer

Suddenly a crash sounded from inside the apartment, interrupting them. "What the fuck is with this fucking cat!"

"Bobby's awake," Jack observed with a lopsided grin.

Kathy groaned. "Better go rescue him from the cat."


End file.
